The Burly Scaffolder
by Spellspiral
Summary: A big burly scaffolder bonds with his younger friend, sparking a relationship and friendship closer but realer than most. Erotica, foot fetish and gay sex CW


The heat was barely kept at bay in the office building as three fans hummed, seeming only to push the warm air around the room, cracked open windows and drawn shutters useless.

Thomas sat at his desk, one hand lazily clicking through e-mails and dockets, the other burly arm behind his head, hand massaging the base of his neck. I couldn't help but admire him, as I'd been doing for the past year and a half since I'd started.

Thomas was a crew boss and site manager on our builds, the company we worked for building temporary structures for events and functions, and the man was definitely built to build – At six feet tall with wide set shoulders, burly frame and muscled arms and legs, there was a lot of him to admire. His black and slicked back hair and the stubbly beard that I was sure he shaved every morning but simply grew back on the drive to work framed his square, masculine features, his skin tanned from the summer outside save for the lighter patches under his shirt and upper thighs which I'd glimpsed under his shorts a few times, but the man had a healthy layer of black, curly hair to coat him it was barely noticeable where he was sallow or just outright golden. Far from chubby or fat, he lacked the hyper-defined muscles of a bodybuilder, more on the side of being a strong man minus the muscle gut.

I knelt downward, pretending to check on my charging phone plugged in to the desktop at my knees, glimpsing under the desk toward the big man's outstretched legs; Work trousers rolled up at the ankles, tight around thick and meaty calves, the black hair sticking out on the tanned canvas. Broad, long feet were clad in thick black work socks, his heels and toes a light grey with yellow bands separating the black and the grey. As he clicked idly, he flexed and curled or pointed a toe. A battered pair of brown leather DeWalt work boots, the steel toes exposed from wear, sat beside a worn and dirty pair of dark grey and black Nikes, the laces faded and fabric looking beaten. I reckoned he must have been wearing the things well over a year. His 'work comforts' I'd heard him call them before he'd taken to the socks only preference. Couldn't say I minded.

I fidgeted for a few more seconds admiring the view before the chime of Tom's phone drew my attention back above the desk. He thumbed the touch screen, hand sliding from his neck to cover his face as he groaned loudly and angry.

"Fuckin' 'ell…" He growled in his London accent, bushy black brows furrowing in anger – The expression sent shivers through me. As attractive as he was, Tom could be a scary looking guy, often by accident. I'd heard plenty of stories of him putting lads down after arguments went too far or when someone had tried their luck with nicking gear on site. He certainly had the build to be a bouncer. I'd had him growl at me on more than one occasion after orders or job packets had been done wrong, though on every occasion he had growled or lost his cool with me he had made the effort to reach out to me in person or on the phone to apologise.

"Everything ok?" I asked, giving him my best chipper smile.

He smiled back, eyes softening a bit, shoulders dropping as he sighed and gave me a dejected look.

"It's me lady. Gone over for a course in Manchester the past two weeks and she went and got it extended. Which is a'right, I s'pose, if I weren't runnin' out of fuckin' clothes to wear, food to eat and money to look after the little one. Need invoices and receipts sorted for me return later on this week as well and if I'm lending her money how in the bloomin' fuck am I to pay my accountant?" He finished with a laugh that had absolutely no humour to it.

Noticing my silence, he hurried to lighten the mood.

"And two weeks without a bird to shag has me up the walls as well, probably. You ain't gotta worry 'bout that, lucky fucker." He gave me a cheeky wink. Thomas was 37, myself only 25. The job had been a sort of spur of the moment hire, but I'd hoped I'd clicked fairly well with the big scaffolder. When it had come out that I was gay to the majority of the crew and office staff, no one had seemed to care, Tom himself - as well as a few others - coming to me and urging me to let them know if anyone decided to be a 'prick about it' to me. I had to endure light teasing over it, but I didn't mind. It made me feel included. One of the lads, despite my small frame, lower height and more computer and sheets oriented skillset to the hyper masculine, brick-shit-house bodied labourers.

The crew of majority Irish men and the one Cockney were like a small unit of personal bodyguards, and big brothers I'd been assured.

"I could do the numbers and sheets for you, if you want. All I'll ask in return is a lift in to Dublin on your way home?"

"Ah, you're a star, mate. But I can't ask ya to do that and I ain't headed home till late. Shitload of catching up to do here. Would be all hours before ya got some kip at home." He leant forward, linking thick fingers together as he rested elbows to the desk and swiped flat fingers across his sweaty forehead.

"Then I can do them here while you work! Two birds, one stone." I nodded, maybe a bit _too_ enthusiastically.

"Err, well, if you're sure mate. I'll owe ya a pint as well." He flashed a grin, white teeth gleaming. I swear I felt my heart stop for a few seconds too long.

I finished off my usual work load, the other few office staff, the majority of which not in on the Saturday, left in packs coming up to 6pm. Before long, the Op officer was headed out the door, Tom clapping and then rubbing his hands conspiratorially.

"Now that that dry stick-up-his-hole is gone… Hope ya don't mind bud, but I need comfort starin' at bloomin' screen for this fuckin' long." Tom spun outward and with a huff heaved both of his bulky long legs onto the table, the weight causing a solid THUD to rattle the air and wood.

"Don't worry, I showered last week. Shouldn't smell." He chuckled at me, but I was too mesmerised to respond with any quickness. Both legs reached over the length of his own table, setting a portion of his shins and both feet squarely over on my side of the table, just off the side of my monitor. Tom worked to position the wireless keyboard on his lap, tilting his screen to the side so he could work while reclined as he was. His arches and soles were broad, flat, arches deep and strong looking even beneath the dark fabric. A slight hole I hadn't noticed showed a tiny peek of the bottom his big toe. Bits of lint and some scraps of plastic clung to the socks at random parts.

"Summat wrong, mate?" Tom asked, pointing his toes back and craning his neck up to peek at his own feet, curious what I was looking at.

"Oh, uh, no. Well, you've got some…" I picked a strip of plastic off the ball of his foot, pinched between thumb and forefinger.

"Ah, haha, cheers." He laughed, turning his attention back to the monitor, toes wiggling idly.

I pressed on with the work, distracted as I was. Every now and again Tom would use his foot to itch at his exposed shins or calves. At one point, he even dug a big toe under the ankle hole of his other foot, scratching. My cock bobbed with each scratch.

I finished up at about 8pm, including the extra work I'd done organising his receipts, making hard copies of the invoices and double checking my calculations. It was easy work for me or most any business student, though to the get-up-and-go types like Tom I could easily see why he'd wanted an accountant and then dreaded the thought of not having one.

"All done. And organised." I smiled to him. I reached over the desk and feigned overbalancing slightly, putting a hand down on his knee to 'steady' myself. I felt the thick muscles of his lower thigh under my fingers.

"Ooh, careful mate! He leant forward, one hand grabbing the papers and binders, the other planting a firm palm on my sternum. He was flexible for a big bloke and that made the bulging and barely contained behind fabric situation at my crotch even worse.

I went to try and leverage myself back with my weight, but a big foot planted in my midsection pushed me back lightly, righting me straight up. I did my best to collapse into my chair as quickly as possible.

"Holy shit, mate, you did all'is yerself? That quick? Me accountant's been robbin' me fuckin' blind, the cunt!" Tom's eyes were wide and mouth agape as he paged through the printed copies, reclining back into his chair, a palm to his forehead in what I guess was surprise and maybe a bit of horror at however much the accountant had been robbing him for some basic but boring arithmetic.

"It was really easy. Used to do that stuff and waaay more before I started here. If you're cool with giving me rides home or just paying me in hugs I'd be happy to help ya out with it in the future." I offered. Tom was still paging through the small bundle, my own eyes locked squarely on his clenched toes, admiring the way the digits managed to grab the fabric into them, outlining the tips of them under thick cotton.

Tom stood suddenly, sidestepping around the desk to get to me.

"Stand up you brain-box. C'mon, up." He laughed. I complied, burly arms wrapping around me tightly until all I could see was the bright red of Tom's shirt, my face pressed into his broad, solid chest. I could hear his chest hair rustle and scrape against the fabric as I moved my head, adjusting to the hug. The big man squeezed me hard and tight, crushing the breath out of me. Big hands clasped my shoulders, pushing me back a few inches, then clasped my face as he planted a sloppy trio of kisses along my forehead.

"You." He said, another kiss. "Little." Kiss, "Beauty." Kiss.

"I'll hug ya, suck you off, drive ya to fuckin' Mars and back while feedin' ya grapes if you'd do me books for me!" He laughed, hugging me again, lighter this time. I felt the rumble of his laughter on his chest, his belly. It was so hearty and happy, filling me with the strangest mix of arousal and pride in having helped him enough to warrant that reaction.

"Can you feed me the grapes with just your jocks on?" I muttered, eyes downcast. His reaction was a laugh and a hand tussling my hair, followed by a one-armed hug.

"Keep it up and definitely." He winked, turning back to his desktop.

"… Back to reality… Fucking hell, I'm not getting through this tonight, am I?" He sighed. I admired the view of his bent back, the screen not visible from where I stood behind his broad bulk.

"I could, if it'd speed things up." I suggested, stepping around.

"Ah you're only trying to get into me boxers now." Tom snickered, waving a hand at me as the screen came into view.

"I insist man. You wanna head home and see your kid, don't be courteous to me for the sake of it."

The soft look he gave me was startling on such a masculine looking man. He looked genuinely touched.

"Where the fuck did we get you from?" He stood straight, throwing an arm around my neck.

"Let me?"

"If you're sure, my friend. All the stuff is open in my e-mails and…" He explained what needed to be done, what had been done. It was easy, routine work. I did as was needed while he set to tidying away dockets and packing the accounts I'd done into his drawer. This work was simple, but it was confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt to me now that computers and desk work just was not to Tom's liking or talents at all. I'd seen the man construct entire stages in hours, he'd even been world wide on tour with famous productions, a testament to his skills. But before me, the screen was a mess of windows, multiple browser windows instead of tabs, badly edited excel and words sheets. I set to work and tidied a lot of his older work up. My mind went into a sort of auto-pilot. Get the job done, do it fast, do it right. I was dragged out of the stupor by a gentle slap on my back. Tom.

"Heading to the loo, mate. Won't be a tick." He took off, in socked feet, heading outside. The office bathrooms were undergoing renovations at the far end of the building, leaving staff forced to use a portacabin set up outside. Seconds passed, and my eyes were drawn to the dry-mud caked work boots and well-worn Nikes. Tentatively, I dipped a finger inside the work boots. I felt gel insoles, exploring a bit until my finger hit a bundle of cloth. Socks. Work socks left in his boots. I pinched them out, heart racing and held them to my nose. Solid white, the bottoms were brown with dirt and sweat. My cock twitched hard as his scent filled my nostrils; Strong, musky. The smell of a strong, ox-bodied worker. With one hand clasping the potent fabric to my nose, the other explored his casual Nikes, pulling out a fresh pair of grey and black ankle-high socks. I stuck them back in, pulling the other trainer up and inhaling deep from the inside. The same masculine odour as the socks, but fainter, more ingrained but less potent. I could feel the pre leaking from my tip – I wanted so badly to sit back and stroke off with the shoes and socks at my leisure. I was pulled from my daze as I remembered where I was, stuffing the socks back within the boots and placing the trainer beside it's partner. I glimpsed down into the boot, reading the words 'WIDEFIT' and a moan escaped me despite myself. The door opened as Tom stepped back in.

"Alright bud?" He inquired.

"Yeah, yeah. Almost done, too." I replied, stammering slightly. My mind was buzzing, the scent still fresh in it. I felt Tom lean slightly against the back of the chair I sat in, broad and warm palms circling my upper back before strong fingers dug lightly into my shoulders. I grunted at the sensation as it slowly turned from a sore stiffness into a slight pleasure.

"Used do this to lads when I cornered 'em boxing. Get the blood flowing better, mind focused. God only fuckin' knows what you'd be able to do if you were any fuckin' brighter." His tone was even. A compliment, but I'd grown so used to his easy tone for the evening I felt a bit disarmed.

"Oh. Heh."

"You ever do massages?" he asked. He pronounced massages in a way that I liked, though didn't use myself, the emphasis on the 'mass'.

"N-no. Never learned or tried." I responded, saving and closing the last of the documents in easy to reach places on his desktop.

"Huh. Tell ya what, come back to my place for the night would ya? I owe ya big time. I can drop ya off in the morning. We ain't ever really had a proper chat before have we? Sit back, few beers, easy night in for us boys. C'mon."

I was tempted to bite my tongue or slap myself, convinced this was a dream. I must have fallen asleep at the desk. Tom would wake me up any moment now. But no. He continued to work my shoulders, sending shivers of relief and pleasure down my spine and to the crown of my head.

"We've chatted before. Those times I was on site a few times." I offered, more just to reply to him as I processed.

"Ah, but that was with other lads. I meant just us. One to one, like. You're a good kid. You did me a solid one here, lemme repay ya and make a proper friend."

"How can I say no?" I muttered as he gave me one final dig with his thumbs, eliciting an 'Umph' from me.

He sat down beside me, pulling a chair over and reaching under the desk beside me to retrieve his boots and trainers. He slipped his socks off, giving me my first ever view of his bare feet; His toes were strong, squarish with black hair on them and running up the tops of his feet. Trimmed nails a healthy white. The edges of his soles were calloused slightly as was the ball of his foot and the edges of his big toes. I salivated as he slipped the short sport socks from his trainers on, then pulled them on and left the laces undone. He glanced down at my legs.

"What size are you, bud?" He asked, poking my own trainers with his left foot.

"I'm an 8."

"Ah, fuck. 11 and a half myself. Wide. Could have given ya pair of trainers I got the other week that were too small for me. Size fuckin' 10UK, but 11us. I was fit to murder someone when I couldn't put em on." He grinned.

The drive to his place was nice. We chatted along the way, and he made it a point to avoid work; His philosophy was he wasn't paid enough to worry about it when he wasn't on the clock. He asked me a lot of questions, seeming genuinely curious. He laughed at my lamer attempts at humour, smiling brightly. I'd give anything to have bottled his charisma. Tom was the type of man people liked, but also respected. He was big without being overbearing. He was kind without being patronising. He seemed to genuinely like making the effort with others. He told me stories of his touring days, going all over the US and Europe, the wilder times he'd taken who knows what and drunk obscene amounts that should have killed him before he decided to drop the harder stuff.

"Man, I'm gonna break my rule, kind of – What you did tonight will be remembered. Babysitter is good to look after my wee lady so you and me don't have to worry about bein' woke up by a way too energetic 4 year old." He laughed.

"You're lucky you ain't gotta worry about brats unless you want to, bud, believe me. Best thing to ever fuckin' happen to me but Jesus do I wish I was still able to go drinking and whoring without answering to anyone." He said wistfully, but he was smiling and it was infectious. I asked him about his daughter and his face lit up with an emotion that happiness or passion didn't quite cover. I fell hard for him, this big masculine and handsome teddy bear, his slick-backed hair occasionally tussling in the wind to cover his forehead in a way I'd only seen happen before in movies. I teased him over his scruffy beard and he teased me right back over an inability to grow one, offering to trade me half-and-half with him, confirming my suspicion his scruff grew at a rate he barely kept controlled.

His apartment was in a quieter part of Dublin city, the complex surrounded by a gate with security. His apartment was roomy, a huge kitchen/living room with a hallway leading to three bedrooms and a bathroom.

"You need a shower, bud? I've got some clothes one of the boys left behind a while back, they'd fit ya. You can borrow one of my shirts and some shorts for bed if ya want." He began to strip in the kitchen, pulling his shirt off over his head and tossing it to land on the floor in front of his washing machine. I stared at his chest and arms, slightly lighter than his arms and legs but by no means pale. His torso was deliciously furry, a coat all over his chest and belly that ran thicker between his crotch and navel and up towards his pecs. His chest was muscular, but he had just enough fat to rob him of the trying too hard gym-rat look, instead a healthy and solid, stocky build. He turned his back to me as he gripped his waistband in a mock high-pitched horrified voice said "Don't peek at me!"

I laughed, darting my eyes away and back as he stripped off his work trousers, revealing thick, beefy thighs and the mouth-watering calves. I'd imagined he was able to make 'leg day' jokes to anyone he wanted.

"… Um, I think one of your legs is, like, the same size as my waist." Fuck, I wasn't even joking.

He turned round to me, bear hairy and grinned wickedly, striking an exaggerated body-builder pose, finger's pointed diagonally toward the ceiling, one leg bent as he looked upward, socked feet sliding on the wooden floor easily as he alternated poses. I didn't want him to stop, beefy arms and legs tensing in earnest. I wanted to walk over and run my fingers through his body hair as he went from pose to pose.

"I work out." He said, nodding sagely and then stripping his socks off, steadying himself on the kitchen island as he hopped from foot to foot. Finally came his boxers and he shot me a warning look, lips pursed and brows furrowed. I felt genuinely apprehensive, flinching to turn away.

"Haha, I'm only winding you up, mate!" He laughed, kicking his boxers off. I looked back in time to miss his exposed manhood, one of his socks pulled over his cock and balls, fixing his fists to his hips to stand like a superhero before me.

"Don't say I never gave ya nothing. We're all squared off now. Tickets to the gun show don't run cheap." He winked and I couldn't help my laughter as he kissed each of his big biceps then pointed a finger at me, turning toward the shower to give me view of his firm beefy ass, his broad back sporting some form of a text tattoo I couldn't read in time. He lobbed the sock that had covered his junk toward me over his shoulder and I gulped and froze for a moment. The bathroom door shut and latched close, the shower running and I bent down, seizing the sock. I scurried over to the discarded pile of clothing, nabbing the other sock and pressing them to my nose. I reached a hand down to fondle my throbbing cock, senses sparking as I pleasured myself to Tom's odour. I felt climax drawing nearer and nearer, but then.

"Ahem."

My body literally went cold. I'm pretty sure I'd had a minor stroke of some kind. My eyes slowly creeped open, a towel-at-the-hip wrapped but bone-dry Tom leaning against the corner of the wall, grinning the most shit-eating and humiliating grin, white teeth visible even in the dimmed lights of the kitchen.

My hand slowly creeped out from beneath my waistband, but I couldn't find or form words to say.

"Hey, don't let me stop ya, bud. I left em there for ya, after all." He walked toward me, hunkering down to me, my back to the kitchen cabinets beside the machine, my ass planted firmly on the ground.

"En-suite. Doors in the lavvy go to my room and out here." Answering my thought of how the fuck he'd snook past a locked door.

He touched a hand to my groin, nodding appreciatively and making an 'Ooh' face.

"Man, I must smell way better than my woman lets on." He smiled.

"What d'you think?" He asked, lifting up an arm to expose a hairy armpit, a black void of thick hair. The musk, bitter and strong, hit me even though I was about 3 feet away.

"You smell great." I blurted out, eyes fixed on his pit.

"Go on then. Free sample on me." He winked, a wicked grin on his face. I leaned in, burying my nose in the hair. I experienced a sensation I could only describe as drunkeness as I inhaled, his warm skin felt amazing against my face, my lips pressed against the side of his rib cage. My tongue lolled out as I inhaled and I lapped absent-mindedly at his torso.

"Fuck me, that feels alright enough." Tom murmured approvingly.

My face wandered downward, lips and tongue meeting his hip and the edge of his towel. I looked up at him, regaining my senses slightly.

"I… I, um…" I stammered.

"You enjoying yourself?" He asked with that smile. Genuine.

"Oh my God, yeah…" I nodded, this time my enthusiasm wasn't hidden at all.

He positioned himself closer, spreading my legs out so he could kneel between them, my own legs having to rest against the sides of his.

"I saw ya, goin' at me boots and socks in the office earlier. Saw you kinda starin' at me feet the last few weeks too but thought it was just you bein' annoyed at havin' to work near a sweaty fucker like me." He took the socks I'd had in my hands, inspecting them.

"So, I ain't gay man. But, like, y'know, you're ah…" He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fuck, look at me, tryin' to justify stuff like this to ya. I dunno what I am, mate, anymore. I know I love pussy. But seeing you go all lusty over my gear? It made somethin' stir and it stirred fierce, haha." He shrugged, standing up and offering me a hand, holding on to his socks. I took it as he pulled me up and close, lifting me into his arms.

"If this is real sudden and you ain't alright with it, just say bud. I don't wanna freak you out." He said, concern etched all over his face.

"You don't know how many times I've tried to get at your stuff just for a whiff of you, Tom." I spoke automatically, my thoughts where he was concerned couldn't be contained at the moment.

"I'm not freaked out. I want to taste you. To touch you. To feel you ins-." I stopped, cringing hard.

He stayed silent for a moment, then;

"Really?" He strode over to the couch, bare feet slapping against the hard wood. He placed me down on the couch, laying down and then leant over me, elbows either side of mine and his feet against the armrest, covering me, us face to face.

"So badly." I moaned and then he leant in. His beard felt amazing against my face, his kisses starting out tentative, hesitant, before he grew hungrier. His musky aroma flooded my nostrils as strong hands ran fingers through my hair, balancing himself on the one elbow, his belly a hard slab as he tensed against his own weight. I pushed against him, doing everything I could to feel every inch of him. My own hands worked to pull my jeans down. He brought his legs in, knees clamping around my thighs, his feet resting against my shins. The kissing grew more and more intense before I managed enough force to convince him it was time to flip, pushing hard against one of his thick shoulders. We flipped and he lay there, sighing and moaning as my hands explored his thick torso, running fingers through chest and belly hair as my lips and tongue assaulted his stomach and nipples, fingers massaging his pecs as they twirled through hair. I reached the towel and pulled it open, the rest trapped under Tom's bulk.

His cock set my mouth watering: Thick and impressive even at only half-mast. A glorious blue vein visible along the shaft as it slowly but surely engorged. His pubes were thick around the base and on his balls, a musky forest. I buried my nose in it, inhaling more and more of his sent, kissing the length of his cock and making my way under his sack, licking and nibbling at his taint to elicit the gloriously deep moans and grunts of surprised pleasure I'd ever heard.

"Jesus that's good…" He moaned, a hand covering screwed shut eyes as he breathed a steady rhythm, furry belly rising and falling beneath my hands as I groped. Trunk-like thighs slid upwards as Tom drew his feet inward, trying to place them on my shoulders, my hands gripping and pushing as hard as I could. Tom helped, crunching as best he could, his feet and legs suspended above his head as his ass became available to me. My tongue worked tirelessly, licking every inch and teasingly probing inward. Surprised yelps and moans came from the beast of a man, but soon the moans grew in consistency as I tongue fucked him, long blissful licks upward and along his taint, then back to working between his solid cheeks. The taste was bitter and salty, strong and manly.

My hand worked his hardened and glorious cock, slick with his own pre. It was red hot, thick and each twitch from within him had it bob in my firm grip.

"Not yet, big guy." I cooed, playfully pinching his foreskin as I slid it back over his purple, pre-slicked head

Tom growled in frustration as my hands withdrew. I moved to bring his legs down, feet bare and exposed to me. I set to work hungrily, lips clamping over warm, salty toes.

"Holy shit, that feels fuckin' good." Tom moaned, eyes open and rolling backward in bliss. I licked between each meaty digit, my hands rubbing and massaging his rough and expansive soles, upward to the balls of his feet, under his toes. I worked my tongue over every inch, sucking, licking and kissing his hard-worked 11-and-a-halfs. As my lips and tongue slicked his curled toes, my arms reached to knead and rub at his calves. I abandoned his feet tentatively, but aware of the rest of his unexplored and hairy body. My fingers worked deftly, digging in and around muscles. I'd known he was strong, but the light layers of fat that gave him his bulky, huggable physique hid powerful and solid muscles, my fingers unable to close around even the thinnest part of his wrist. I sat atop his stomach as I worked his shoulders from on top of him. The look on his face, eyes closed and mouth agape with his brows furrowed in pleasure and relief is an image I could never ever forget for the rest of my days.

"I want you in me." I gasped, leaning forward, my own cock pressed against his hairy belly.

"I really, really want you in me."

He nodded, pushing me off him gently as he jogged to his room, returning moments later with a bottle of lubricant. He seemed confused as he looked at my, grinning sheepishly, so I took it from him, applying a generous amount to my fingers as I prepped for him. He took me the hand and led me down the hallway into what I guessed was the guest room – nudging me to the bed. I lay on my back, legs open to invite him in.

"I'm gonna fuck you…" He muttered, leaning over me. He was taller, his cock brushing against and then pushing against my hole as he kissed me.

"Say you want me in you. Say how much you want me to take you." He growled as I kissed and gasped against his beard.

"Fuck me, sir. I want your cock in me. I want your cock in me so bad…" I moaned in his ear. I felt his hand work to lubricate his shaft. Fuck he was so big. I clenched in anticipation, eager and terrified all at once and I felt him slide into me. I let out a moan, pain and pleasure melting together. He growled as he began to thrust slowly, finding his rhythm and huffing in bliss as my hole tightened around his thick length with each thrust. A hand cradled my head, his body close to mine as he climbed atop the body, tilting my back as he continued to fuck me steadily, each thrust a little quicker than the last. My cock pressed against his body, warm, damp skin and hair driving my sensitive, swollen head crazy. I tried to voice this, but words caught in my throat with each slap of his hips against my ass.

"You're so fucking warm and tight…" He said, right into my ear.

"You feel so fucking good, bud… I'm gonna make you mine…"

He fucked me for what felt like years, my senses dull from the influx of sensations. His fingers scratched lightly at my head from behind as he continued to cradle me, his lips pressed against mine. Soon he was fucking me in earnest, his gasps and moans increasing in frequency until,

"I'm gonna cum in you, boy. I'm gonna fuckin' cum in your tight hole."

He straightened himself upward, big beautiful blue eyes and sweat soaked hair and face looking down at me with a burning hunger. I felt his hefty sack slap against my ass, his hand working my own cock.

"Nugh… Not me, yet." I managed to get out. He ceased stroking me, placing firm hands on my hips to steady me.

He came inside me with a deep, low roar of pleasure, head to the ceiling and back arched on the final thrust. He collapsed on top of me, embracing me in a sweaty, humid hug.

"That was so fucking needed like you have no idea you beautiful little fucker, you." He laughed, hugging me.

"How're you going to get off?" he asked, laying back beside me.

"Can I… Ask something weird?"

"No such thing tonight, little buddy. What d'ya want?" He turned to look me in the eye, eyes full of warmth, a slight smile on his lips.

"Your… Your feet. Can you get me off with them?" I asked quietly, my own hard cock now in Tom's big hand.

"… Stand up." He nodded. I grabbed the sock he'd brought with him from the kitchen off the floor, putting it on halfway up his foot, leaving a sole bare and some overhand of sock on his toes. One bare foot, one half-socked foot.

He wrapped his toes on my shaft, and I began to fuck them. He wiggled and clenched, doing as best he could to either grip my cock with one set of toes while the other foot worked to rub along my shaft, head or press against my balls.

I looked at him as he worked, his brows knit in concentration, tongue tip sticking out as he tended to do when confronted with a problem he was sure he could solve. He noticed my looking, flashing me a wicked grin and a wink as he pressed the tops of his bare toes under my cock and pushed down with the socked set. I came with a shuddering gasp, my load spraying up his legs to land on shins, ankle and knees.

"Didn't know I could do work like that with me toes!" Tom gave me a goofy smile. I went to go clean his legs, leaning forward, only for him to wrap them around me and pull me towards him. Beefy hands hooked under my armpits and he pulled me effortlessly onto the bed beside him, an arm around my shoulders. I locked eyes with him, his other hand scratching absently at his beard.

"Are… Are you alright with maybe doin' stuff like this again, bud?"

I wanted to shout yes. I didn't want anything more. But,

"What about your girlfriend and daughter?"

Tom thought for a moment.

"I don't really think we're a couple, bud. Not really. She didn't go to a course, she's gone back to her folks, over in my homeland." He gave me a sad smile. I felt my heart tear in two as he continued.

"She's gonna take the wee one, once she gets a job over there. I can't really stop her, either. Ain't married… I'm sorry to bring ya down with shit like this, but, at least y'know we ain't cheatin'."

He tried to crack a joke at the end, but I barrelled into him with a hug before he could.

"I'm not sure if I'm, y'know, gay or bisexual or whatever. I never really cared about stuff like that, the labels and stuff But this was fun. You're a great lad and lay." He smiled, pulling me closer, a hand on my back.

"And getting' me tired and battered paws played with don't hurt either. You're a natural with those hands of yours on battered old fucks like me." He circled his thumb along my back.

"How about this: I help out with your paperwork and stuff, maybe even sort out some legal things so he can't cut your daughter out of your life completely – You maybe help me out with rides to and from the office and let me at your feet now and again when your balls get full?"

He lifted a leg to the air, wiggling his bare toes in the air.

"You've got yourself a deal, boy."

I fell asleep wrapped up in his arms, the bear of a man just as good as any duvet.


End file.
